


Sick Day

by Saifa



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Dadster, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Sick Fic, Skeleton family, skelebros, the skelebros are kids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-03-15 21:46:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13622286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saifa/pseuds/Saifa
Summary: Gaster has been working himself to the point of exhaustion. After a breakfast disaster, Sans and Papyrus learn that he is sick and convince him to stay home. It is up to the skeleton brothers to take care of him.





	Sick Day

**Author's Note:**

> Gift fic for my friend Vero-Valzer on tumblr because life is a little shit and giving her a bad time. I hope this makes you smile. I borrowed a prompt you gave ages ago when I wrote those scripts for you.
> 
> PS - Comments always appreciated. I'm sorry I suck at titles, but I need to sleep and I'm tired like Gaster. I might edit this more later.

           “Sans, wake up!” Papyrus shook his brother until Sans’ snore turned into a groan.

           The older skeleton rubbed his eyes and blinked. “What’s up, bro?” he asked groggily.

           “Don’t you smell it?” Papyrus frowned. The house smelled of burnt toast and eggs. The stench was pungent and left a bitter taste.

           Sans sniffed. His face contorted in disgust.

           “Something must be wrong with dad,” Papyrus said. He fidgeted while giving Sans a worried look.

           “Relax, Papyrus. Dad can be a bad cook sometimes, but a kitchen disaster doesn’t mean something’s wrong with him. Don’t cry over spilled milk,” he said, winking. “After all, you can’t make an omelette without breaking some eggs.” Sans laid back down and shut his eyes. He grinned when he heard Papyrus grumble.

           “Sans, I’m serious! This is no time for your awful puns,” he shouted. He ripped the covers off and grabbed his brother’s arm. “Get up, lazybones!” Papyrus pulled Sans off the bed.

           “Alright, alright. Let’s go check on him,” Sans yawned. He dragged his feet and slouched with Papyrus towing him.

           The brothers coughed as they went downstairs. The smoke grew thicker and bitterer the closer they got to the kitchen. They peaked around the entryway with Sans’ head stacked on top of his brothers’.

           “Uh...dad?” Sans called. He and his brother grimaced in concern.

           Gaster’s gaze was distant. The lights of his eyes were dim and flickered with fatigued. He slowly stirred the air with a spatula in small circles as a pile of scrambled eggs burned in the frying pan in front of him. Behind him was the toaster belching out smoke. It chimed and thrusted out two pieces of blackened, crusty bread.

           “I told you! A burnt breakfast means dad hasn’t slept in days,” Papyrus said. He hurried into the kitchen, climbing onto the counter to open a window. The house exhaled the smoke gladly and a fresh breeze rolled in to dispel the acrid smell.

           “Hey, dad, are you feeling okay?” Sans asked, stepping towards him.

           Gaster’s attention snapped to Sans, although the fatigue still weighed heavily on his shoulders. “Hm? What was that? Oh, yes, breakfast is ready.” He scooped up a pile of the dry, charred mess onto plates and handed them to Sans. “Set those on the table, will you? Papyrus, get the toast.”

           “But dad–”

           “I have a lot of work to do today so I’ll be home late. Take care of your brother and–” A coughing fit interrupted him. He leaned against the counter to steady himself and a small shiver rippled through his body.

           The brothers exchanged concerned looks.

           “M-maybe you should stay home,” Papyrus offered, smiling sweetly. “You don’t look well.” He plucked what was left of the toast out of the toaster and dropped the pieces on a plate Gaster handed to him. He made a face as black crumbs scattered onto the floor and on his pajamas.

           “I’m on a tight schedule.” Gaster sighed and ushered the brothers to sit at the table. “I assure you I am fine.” He turned and groaned while clutching the side of his head. With lethargic motions, he grabbed glasses from the cupboards and returned to the table with a pot. He poured the liquid and passed the glasses to the brothers.

           Sans and Papyrus peered into their cups suspiciously and exchanged looks. Gathering up the courage, Sans took a sip. His eyes went dark as he cringed. He spat the drink out and set the glass down, pushing it away from him. “Dad,” he said through a stiff smile. “This is coffee. Cold, old coffee.”

           “Hm?” Gaster hummed absentmindedly. He took a seat and propped his arms up on the table. Now that he was sitting, his shoulders slumped and he held his head while massaging his temples. The lights were all too bright for him, causing his head to pound.

           Papyrus slid out of his seat and rushed over to him. “Dad,” he said worriedly, tugging at Gaster’s sleeve. “You’re sick. You need rest.”

           Gaster looked at him with dim, hollow eyes. “The current project can’t afford to have me call in sick. We’re on a strict timetable.”

           “So working yourself to death is preferable?” Sans scowled. He moved to stand with his brother.

           Gaster fell silent. His mouth pressed into a hard line. 

           “We’re making you stay home,” Papyrus declared, puffing out his chest and gesturing to himself with a wide grin. “Everyone will have to get through the Great Papyrus first before they can come near you.”

           “No one’s cooler than my bro after all. You have to be at least as cool as him to sneak past,” Sans added.

           Gaster looked at his sons in silence. His expression softened with a smile. “I am truly lucky to have you two,” he sighed, admitting defeat. “Alright, I’ll call in sick.”

           The brothers cheered in relief and gave each other a high five.

 

__________

 

           “He’s so tired,” Papyrus whispered worriedly to Sans. He held an armful of his favorite stuffed animals and hugged them tightly. “Did you see how quickly he fell asleep?”

           Sans nodded. He watched his brother arrange them beside Gaster.

           Papyrus felt Gaster’s forehead, then looked to his brother anxiously. “Dad’s burning up.” He pulled the blankets up to cover his father’s shoulders and frowned when he felt the heat radiating off of Gaster’s body. “What do we do?”

           “Dad always puts a damp washcloth on my head whenever I get sick,” Sans said. “Wait here.” He turned swiftly on his heel and left the room. It wasn’t long before he returned with a bowl of cool water and a washcloth.

           Papyrus soaked the washcloth, wrung it out, then gently placed it on Gaster’s forehead. He flinched when Gaster groaned quietly. As if afraid the slightest movement would wake him, Papyrus froze and held his breath. He only relaxed when his father’s shallow breathing slowed.

           “Come on, Pap,” Sans said, placing a hand on his brother’s head. “We should let dad rest. We can check on him later.”

           Papyrus nodded. He shuffled after him, taking another look at Gaster before leaving the room.

           “Hey, don’t look so glum, bro. Dad will get better in no time. He’s just  _ burnt _ out.”

           “I know,” Papyrus sighed. “I wish he wouldn’t run himself into the ground so much though.” Papyrus then whipped around to glare at his brother. “Hey, no puns! This isn’t the time, Sans!”

           “You’re right. I  _ toastally _ agree with you.”

           Papyrus groaned.

           They went back to the kitchen to clean the breakfast disaster. Papyrus pulled up a chair so he could reach the sink. While Sans passed dishes to him and swept the crumbs off the floor, Papyrus scraped and washed away the charred remains.

           “Do you think dad would like it if we drew pictures for him?” Papyrus asked. “They always helped him after a long day.”

           “Bro, if anyone can help him recover with pictures, it’s you.”

           “His office is also a mess,” Papyrus scoffed. “It’s a wonder he can find anything in there. Ugh, and dad probably hasn’t been acquiring the proper amounts of nutrition either. Unbelievable!”

           Sans grinned. He leaned towards Papyrus and whispered, “I  _ toastally  _ agree.”

           “Sans!” Soap bubbles and water went flying from Papyrus raising his arms in protest.

           Sans barely held back his laughter. “This is  _ eggsactly _ the plan–”

           “No!”

           “We sort his office, then draw, and then we make some soup for him. It’ll be  _ souper _ .”

           “Ugh, fine, but stop it with the puns!”

           “Come on, bro. I’m just  _ egging _ you on.”

           Papyrus groaned and scrubbed the remaining dishes vigorously.

 

           When the brothers entered Gaster’s office, they found the room in disarray. His desk was covered in layers of reports and blueprints while the drawers of file cabinets were partially open. Folders stuck out, preventing them from closing, with papers threatening to burst from them. Even more papers crumpled into balls littered the floor.

           “You clearly take after dad, Sans,” Papyrus grumbled. He bent over to collect the crumpled papers and tossed them into an already full recycling bin. Carefully lifting up the bin, he took the mountain of debris and left the room.

           Sans climbed onto Gaster’s chair to inspect the papers on his desk. He squinted as he looked over notes written in Wingdings. “My head feels  _ scrambled _ just by looking at this.”

           “Ugh!” Papyrus exclaimed, returning with a scowl. He joined his brother to look at the blueprints and mess of equations. “Okay, I take it back. That joke is appropriate, but only this once!”

           “This must be what dad is working on.”

           “What’s it supposed to do?”

           “I think it’s supposed to convert magical energy into electricity.” Sans cocked his head as he attempted to decipher the notes and equations.

           “Whatever it is, it must be important to him.”

           Sans nodded as he sifted through the blueprints in silence. He then froze and picked up a piece of paper. With a heavy sigh, he held it up to Papyrus.

           Three skeletons colored in crayon stood together. They held each other in an embrace. Each wore a blue heart on their chest and a smile on their face. In the corner of the page, written in Gaster’s handwriting were the words ‘ _ Don’t forget’ _ .

           Papyrus’ shoulders slumped as he frowned. “He’s been doing this for us.”

           Sans searched the desk for tape and stuck the drawing on a shelf ledge so that it hung in view. “What do you say we remind him that we want him to take care of himself too? I’ll leave the drawing to you, alright? You’re a way cooler artist than me anyways. I’ll sort all this science junk.”

           Nodding stiffly, Papyrus wiped his eyes with the back of his arm and sniffled.

           Sans spent the rest of the day cleaning and organizing Gaster’s office. To his delight, he managed to get the filing cabinets to close. The desk looked presentable and no longer had a recreation of Mt. Ebott in paper form on it. Meanwhile, Papyrus colored at the desk once it was cleared. When he finished a drawing, he would either tape it up or leave to bring it to Gaster.

           “So, how’s he looking?” Sans asked.

           “He’s still sleeping. At this rate, he’ll be an even better sleeper than you,” Papyrus responded with more relief than derision. He fell quiet as he turned to look at the drawings hanging around Gaster’s desk. “I left a pile for him to look at if he wakes up.”

           Sans placed a hand on Papyrus’ head.

           “Dad’s fever is down at least.” Papyrus hugged his brother and buried his face in Sans’ chest.

           “You did good, bro,” Sans said, returning the hug. “I  _ toast  _ ya.”

           Papyrus groaned, which morphed into a choked laugh.

           A growl of hunger broke the silence between them.

           “How ‘bout we make that soup now?” Sans asked.

           “It’ll be  _ souper _ ,” Papyrus responded, a faint note of distaste hung on the pun. “Rest assured, I’m only agreeing to partake in your awful puns because I am too hungry to care.”

           “Good to know. I was about to check for symptoms such as  _ coffee-ing _ ,” Sans chuckled.

           “Nyeh!” Papyrus shouted, disgruntled while trying to hide a smile. He shoved Sans away and sprinted to the kitchen.

           Sans followed to see Papyrus rummaging through the fridge and cupboards for ingredients, a pot, and utensils. Sans filled the pot with water and placed it on the stove to boil. Once the water bubbled, he tossed in a bouillon cube “What are we making, bro?” 

           “The best of soups for the best of dads, of course!”

           “Oh? And what would that be?”

           “Noodle soup!” 

           “Need any help?” 

           “I want to do it!” Papyrus declared while washing the vegetables. He quickly chopped them and passed Sans the pasta and other ingredients to boil. “Someday I am going to be a great cook. I will be the best master chef in all the underground! In fact, this soup will be so great, it will heal dad in no time!” He held up a wooden spoon and waved it around like a scepter before handing it to Sans. “I dub thee the official soup stirrer.”

           Sans chuckled. He stirred the pot while watching Papyrus add pepper and other spices. It wasn’t long before the whole kitchen smelled of their creation. Whatever remaining smokey stench lingered from breakfast was swiftly banished. Papyrus chattered excitedly as he got bowls for the two of them, his spirits lighter and bright.

           The brothers sampled their creation and were pleased with the result. Once they had their fill and cleaned, they filled a bowl and carefully crept up the stairs to Gaster’s room. Sans slowly turned the doorknob and the door creaked open. The brothers peeked inside the dark room and saw a shadowy form sitting up in bed.

           “Dad!” the brothers called. Sans flicked on the lights while Papyrus shuffled in with the bowl.

           Gaster, looking exhausted, turned to them. As if forgetting momentarily where he was, his eyes rekindled with life when he saw the assortment of drawings and stuffed animals surrounding him. “What’s all this?” he asked in tired wonder. He gathered up the drawings and flipped through them in admiration. He smiled at the pictures of the three of them, messages of love, and reminders to sleep and eat.

           “Drawings with healing magic, of course!” Papyrus said proudly.

           Gaster laughed. He muffled a cough and smiled warmly at his sons. “Is that so? I feel better already.”

           “Really?” Papyrus’ eyes lit up.

           Gaster nodded.

           “There’s more in your office too,” Sans said. “We also cleaned it for you. It should be easier to find things now.”

           “How very thoughtful,” Gaster mused. “What did I do to deserve you two?”

           “Everything!” Papyrus beamed, holding up the bowl. “So much so that we made you noodle soup!”

           “It’s  _ souper _ ,” Sans chimed in.

           Papyrus’ face contorted as he held in a scream. “You wouldn’t believe the awful puns I had to put up with all day.”

           “Oh?” Gaster took the bowl and tried a spoonful.

           “How is it?” Papyrus’ expression was hopeful.

           “Marvelous, my dear boy,” Gaster smiled softly.

           The brothers climbed onto Gaster’s bed and hugged him tightly.

           “We’re glad you’re feeling better, dad,” Sans said.

           Papyrus buried his face in his father’s chest. He shut his eyes as he tried to hold back tears. “But, please, don’t worry us like that again!”

           Gaster relaxed, his expression pensive. “Don’t worry. I promise.”


End file.
